Laments in the silence

Rhythmic fall; of words
With the seasons leafs
Drying off to fly
Withered in the wind

They, words and leafs
Sneering over the
Freezing bark and silent harp
Luring the ink of poet
And its heart.

And out in such moon,
Too keen to bloom
I forget what
it was like the noon…
an archaic pain, an ardent hurt
and wounds filth with dirt……